11.02.2013

In the House of the Hangman 1228

The performance
opens (Part 1: Descent) with a
theory-fiction-manifesto that introduces the dramatis personae and
abruptly drops the goat of philosophy into the abyss. This prologue of a
mangled philo-fiction is followed (Part 2: Navigation)
by a performative gluing of philosophy and sound in which the auditors become
the goats, each completing the chimera according to their localization and
navigation of the space. In the final movement (Part 3: Alienation), this personal experience of local synthesis is
replaced by an estranging immersion into the impersonal experience of the
global, synthetic environment as the intensifying, sonic chimerization moves
beyond the sphere of the knowable. But the rocket has to be many things, it
must answer to a number of different shapes in the dreams of those who touch it
– in combat, in tunnel, on paper – it must survive heresies shining,
unconfoundable … and heretics there will be: Gnostics who have been taken in a
rush of wind and fire to chambers of the Rocket-throne … Kabbalists who study
the Rocket as Torah, letter by letter – rivets, burner cup and brass rose, its
text is theirs to permute and combine into new revelations, always unfolding …
Manicheans who see two Rockets, good and evil, who speak together in the sacred
idiolalia of the Primal Twins (some say their names are Enzian and Blicero) of
a good Rocket to take us to the stars, an evil Rocket for the World’s suicide,
the two perpetually in struggle. The SunStar 332 has patented S2 Advanced
Technology. With thirtytwo body bulbs and three additional face bulbs sheltered
by Xtreme Reflection glass, it’s known as the “workhorse” of the industry. A
freshly folded hand towel sits on the bed’s lower bench with a peppermint and
two coupons rested delicately on top. An acrylic table tent with a blue outline
of a palm tree and sun reads: this sun bed has been sanitized. OK. It’s the
year of the black water-snake. OK. Look how these consonants mutate into
slender mushrooms, their intuitive vowels steaming like cows in the Rio Tinto
Zinc Mine. OK. I have a Subaru clutch and an anguish with the weight of a
sweaty invocation. Hills boil smears whose rails lead to a grove of whispering
oak and a giant paper lobster skidoodling into a hole of safe haven and the
foghorns of Portugal that place in Portugal where apples sag. OK. I build a
sawdust hop. I cry dive! dive! and my submarine dives. OK. It is a
convenient coincidence (some might say too convenient) that Pierre Schaeffer’s
initial experiments with musique concrète, John Cage’s first silent
composition, and Muddy Waters’s pioneering electric recordings all occurred in
the same year: 1948. Did I mention I had a job selling cotton candy at a
baseball stadium in my early 30s? “There is blood everywhere in this opera,”
said Mr. Kaufmann, a German tenor. “It’s about this wound that never heals, so
why not play the second act inside this wound?” I mean, “He was wearing a
button-down shirt and slacks and offered a sad smile when he said, ‘Forgive me for
not getting up. I have mobility issues.’” “Just being washed out to sea,
bashed around” — that’s a mobility issue, isn’t it? Likewise when “The stranger
walks toward the children, who walk / into the sky,” or when “The drive was
smooth / but after we arrived things started to go haywire”, or when “I am
forced to sleepwalk much of the time.” That’s when I meet the “Giant Barabbo,” I
meet the Hacs, the Emangloms and the Cordobese. And the Murs: gobblish,
goborious crabbots, known far and wide for
their orchidaceousness, as the Agres and the Cordobese for their soot and coil,
the Orbis for their fluorescent edges, the Smilinettes and Ribobelles for their
clairvoyant pauses, the Arpedars for their moss pockets, the Tacodions for
their peak-ed bones, and the Eglarmbs for their musical talent, especially on the Strohviolin, which is
a kickass machine.

[Note: Sources: “UF20 15 11 12 THE NON-TRIVIAL GOAT AND THE CLIFFS OF THE
UNIVERSAL”, at
Urbanomic; Thomas Pynchon, Gravity’s
Rainbow, as quoted in Benjamin Noys, FB post, 10 Feb 013; Meagan
Ciesla, “Hunting Down the Bunny Tail”, at Cimarron Review 182; JBR; Christine Lien, FB post, 10 Feb 013; John
Olson, “Art is the Scar of Rain on the Curb of Desire”, at
Tillalala Chronicles, 10 Feb 013; Seth Kim-Cohen, In the Blink of an Ear: Toward a Non-Cochlear Sonic Art, at
Monoskop Log;
Ali Liebegott, “Lady in the House Questions: Ali Liebegott”, at
Her Kind, 10 Feb 013; Timothy Morton, “Act 2 Is Inside the Wound”, at ,
Ecology without Nature, 10 Feb 013 (re “a Parsifal set in a global warming
landscape”); JBR;
Michael H Miller, describing and quoting
John Ashbery, John Ashbery, and Barry Schwabsky, as quoted in Schwabsky’s “Mobility
Issues: On John Ashbery’s Recent Poetry”, at
Hyperallergic, 10 Feb 013; John Yau, “Henri Michaux’s Disintegrating Selves”, at
Hyperallergic, 10 Feb 013; JBR (a member of L.A. Fog, who I saw 9
Feb 013 at the Poetic Research Bureau, played one …); Deborah Poe, various places, found sortes-style, in the last will be stone, too (thanks, Deborah, for the lovely day!)]

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